Shadowdancer's Tale
by Lady Shandara
Summary: NWN2 OC. Chapter 7 is finally up. Read and review, please. Writing reviews is good for the soul. Honestly!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights 2 storyline and most of the characters featured here are the property of Obsidian. I'm just borrowing them and trying not to damage them too much, in case I need to give them back. Selenya is completely mine, except for the floppy hat which you can buy from Deekin. I'm not a native speaker of English, so grammatical errors (and other strange stuff) are possible and I'm sorry about them. Sometimes, when I feel like a true _artiste_ and decide to break the rules, the errors are deliberate (yeah, right…). I couldn't come up with a better title, since I'm not yet completely sure where this story is going.

Chapter 1: Memories

_Selenya_

The first thing I remember is dancing at the Harvest Fair. I must have been five or six years old then and I don't remember anything that had happened to me before that. To be honest, my memory has always been a patchwork of significant moments, and all the usual, everyday events have left little mark in my mind. I envy those people who can easily tell me what they did during that wonderful summer when they were seven years old, since the only thing I know is that I must have been seven at some point, but can't really say more about the matter. I blame my mind which has the annoying habit of wandering around, going from one thing to the other, or the fifteenth, in a matter of seconds. When something important happens, my mind can pull itself together to concentrate on the moment and then I might just remember it later on. In my mind, there are huge blank spaces that span for months and then some perfect or horrible day that I will remember for the rest of my life, each little detail of it branded into my memory. But Harvest Fair, when I was five or six, that's what I was going to concentrate on now.

It was a very sunny day. I was annoyingly energetic and curious, as children of that age usually are, and I remember how pleased Daeghun had been when Retta Starling had promised to look after me for the day. I had a new dress, well, actually an old dress, a gift from Mrs. Keefe, whose three daughters had owned it before me. But it was new to me, and clean and red, so I wasn't complaining. We headed to the Fair and there were the usual things that are so wonderful to a child and quite boring for an adult. The biggest pig, longest cucumber and cutest chicken, or something in those lines. And then there were the bards. At first they told some stories, which weren't as good as Georg's stories. When you're a child, the most outrageous lie is also the best one. But once all the stories were told, they began to play.

It wasn't as if I hadn't heard music before. There were travelling musicians coming through the village and performing every now and then, and some of the villagers were also keen musicians. But even though I had heard music before, it had never registered as more than a background noise, something you could tap your feet to. But the music these bards played, it wasn't just something to tap your feet to. It was something that got inside of you and tapped your feet for you. I didn't even realize that I had suddenly left Retta's side, but there I was, in the middle of all the dancers, hopping and twirling and feeling the music, feeling the movements, the motion. Feeling alive, really. At some point Retta asked me whether I was tired and I said no, even though my feet ached, because then she would have taken me home and I couldn't have danced anymore. Finally the bards decided to take a break and Retta snatched hold of my arm in a way that suggested I should follow her or lose the arm. Bevil was standing besides Retta and staring at me with a surprised look on his face.

When we were walking away, one of the bards hurried after us. She was a beautiful woman with long, curly red hair and freckles on her face. She was smiling a brilliant smile when she stopped in front of us and told me that my dancing had been beautiful and that she thought I was very talented. I remember going speechless, not believing that anything I did could be described as beautiful, but she smiled even more and asked me to continue dancing. Then Retta said, in her best mother-voice, that it was way past our bedtime and the beautiful bard nodded and smiled at me one last time and walked away.

"Dancing, of all things," Retta muttered when she marched me back home, but there was a strange, almost sad look in her eyes. I was sent to bed straight away, whereas Retta talked with Daeghun for a while, probably telling him about my behaviour. I should have tried to eavesdrop, as any self-respecting child who is sent away when adults speak, but my head was full of music and my feet couldn't stop moving. I hopped around the room like in a trance, not realizing that Daeghun had appeared to the doorway before he called out my name.

"I thought I told you to go to bed," he said, but he didn't look angry. He often didn't show any kind of emotion. He looked disappointed sometimes, especially during the Harvest Fair when I was eighteen and… But that's a memory to be explored at another time. This time he actually looked a little amused. "Retta told me you were dancing."

"Yes!" I said, and I can still remember that excited squeak in my voice. "It was wonderful, the bards and the music and the…"

"Go to bed now," Daeghun said, quite gently. "There will still be music in the world when you wake up." He stroked my hair, something that didn't happen often either, and then left. I undressed, dropping the beautiful red dress into a messy pile of clothes on a chair and put on my nightgown. Then, unable to resist the urge, I danced around the room as quietly as possible, humming the music in my mind. I'm not whether Daeghun heard me or not, but he didn't come and order me to go to bed. I guess he understood what I had experienced that day. Not that I realized it then, I just felt I had managed disobey a rule, which is a wonderful feeling for a child to have.

Yes, that is the first memory that I have and it's of the Harvest Fair. My favourite time of year. My other good memories are centred either on the Fair or on other moments of joy and dance. No wonder I was drawn to Lliira in a community where most people thought that Chauntea was the sensible choice for a god. I've never been a very devout follower, it's just not a part of my nature, but I'm willing to accept that Lliira exists and that the things she stands for suit me. I'm not certain what kind of afterlife this attitude will earn me, but it's at least true to who I am.

It's unfair that the worst memory of my life is also set in the Harvest Fair. After a wonderful day, winning the Cup and dancing until my feet ached, and of course spending that very pleasant hour with Webb Mossfeld, I went to bed, feeling like I owned the world. I must've only slept for couple of hours when I woke up to screams and shouting and the feeling that something horrible was happening. Amie and Bevil rushed in, telling me to get my weapons because the village was under attack. I put on the leather armour that Daeghun had bought me even though I had told him that it hindered my movements, suddenly very glad of extra protection. I took my dagger, sword, a couple of bandages and, as an afterthought, my lockpicks. Always a smart move, in my opinion. You never know what you will come across, and lockpicks are a girl's best friend. And then I stepped forward to see my whole life burn down.

Not all my memories are _nice_, but I believe they stay with me for a reason. Always remember what happened to those you loved and remember what you're fighting for. I don't understand why these things are happening to me, why it was Daeghun and not someone else who found the shards. It could've so easily been someone else from the village, and that person might have hidden them elsewhere and then things would have been completely different. I would still be in West Harbor. I wouldn't have come to Neverwinter and met my uncle, or the people who I can now call my companions, even friends. I sometimes feel like I should still be in West Harbor, but I can't deny that it feels good to see the world. To learn new steps, as it were.

Now, because I'm in the service of Neverwinter, I need to travel to Old Owl Well. Hopefully this task will be the last one and I can then get access to Blacklake and find the sage who should be able to tell me something about the shards. Once I have that information, I can travel to West Harbor to tell Daeghun what I've discovered. And ask him about my mother. Duncan knows something but won't tell, so I can only hope that my father can for once open up and talk about my past, about my mother. Share his memories with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Sunken Flagon

_Bishop_

The stench of the docks always manages to surprise me when I return to the city from the wilderness. The stench of civilization, of people desperately trying to convince themselves that their lives are worth living. Sometimes I think that I shouldn't return, but something keeps bringing me back. Something? Duncan. The cursed half-elf and that joking voice of his, binding me. He hasn't mentioned it, not even once. Not to me, at least. Has he told that half-brother of his that he's often talked about? "He's a ranger too." Wonderful, I really needed to know that.

A beggar kid wanders past, eyeing me up. I've seen him, or perhaps some other kid, who can tell the difference, spouting some heart-breaking story to idiots who don't have the brains to keep an eye on their money. Another kid enters the Flagon as I walk closer. Not a surprise. Duncan has a habit of gathering all kinds of rabble to waste their lives in his tavern, why not add some beggar kids into the mix to make the place even more unwelcoming. If I can't find a way of freeing myself from his servitude, I may soon become one of the rabble. I can't kill him when I can't be sure who he's told. And I have a bad feeling he'll never call in his debt. I will always be in his leash. And I don't like that.

Maybe I should kill him, no matter who he has told. If they come after me, I kill them too, and if they inform the _authorities_, I can disappear into the woods. See how they desperately try to track me down and fail. Maybe I should kill him. But not yet, since I'm in desperate need of a drink.

I enter the Flagon and the first thing that hits me is the smell of forest, so completely out of place here. What an elven druid is doing in the Flagon, I have no idea, but there she sits, staring at some runty dwarf who seems to be trying to commit suicide by drowning himself in an over-sized mug. A tiefling girl is talking to one of the regulars and emptying his pockets. New people have joined the rabble. People wasting their lives away, one drink at a time. I sit down by the fire place and Sal nudges a red-haired girl leaning on the counter. She turns to look at me and scowls.

"No way I'm going to run around serving some forest-crazies!" Her voice is whiny, rather like a mosquito hovering around your ear. But she's not too bad to look at. And what I have in mind doesn't require her to talk.

"Yes you are," Duncan steps into the room from the kitchen. "You're working for me now, girl, and that includes serving the customers." He looks at me and gives me a nod, like every time I walk into the Flagon. No sign of anything else, just a regular nod.

"I could burn down this inn, you know, easily, so why don't you take all of your customers and shove…"

The door to the Flagon opens and I glance over, not in the mood to concentrate on the argument between Duncan and the wench. A woman steps in and takes off her hat, one of those floppy things with a feather, favoured by idiots who try to pass themselves as swashbuckling adventurers. She walks across the bar and I follow the swinging of her hips, which is quite a pleasant sight after my weeks in the forest. The argument stops and Duncan flashes the woman a big smile.

"There you are! What did they want from you this time? Finally getting to Blacklake?"

"No," the woman replies and sits down by the counter. "We're going to Old Owl Well."

"Another task? They still don't trust you?" Duncan asks. The red-haired girl sneaks away. Apparently no chance of getting a serving wench to come over today.

"They still don't have enough people to deal with things, so they load everything on me," the woman replies, chuckling. "Apparently I can be trusted to escort ambassadors, but not to enter a city district. Politics…"

"Best left for those who can stomach them," Duncan says. They continue the discussion, but I let the speech flow past me and look at the woman. Duncan is not flirting with her, which is strange, since he usually tries his _charm _on all women who enter the place. However, the tone of conversation is very warm. Is she a relative? From whatever sad stock of humanity that one of Duncan's parents crawled from? Her long brown hair is held up by a couple of sticks, for whatever reason I do not wish to contemplate. She's wearing brown leather armour that brings out the curves of her body very nicely. And there are quite a lot of those curves, but she doesn't actually look fat. I have to admit, watching her isn't all that bad. Of course, after all those weeks in the wilderness, my standards aren't that high. The red-haired girl wouldn't be bad either, and a little pain might just wipe away that attitude of hers. Even the druid would do, although they are never much use. Too much talk about the ways of nature and not enough satisfying any natural needs.

Yes, seems like there's no hope for a drink, at least without getting it myself. The red-haired girl is glaring at Duncan from the kitchen door. Duncan, talking with the brown-haired woman, is ignoring her. Sal is cleaning a glass, or at least rubbing it with a cloth. I lean back in my chair and glance again at the woman by the counter. She turns her head slightly and for a moment looks straight at me, raising an eyebrow. I return her look. If she has a problem with me looking at her way, she can come and say it. It would be a pleasure seeing her walk across the floor to me. But she just smiles, a quick little smile that I cannot read, and turns away.

"Don't give Khelgar anything more to drink, I need him at least relatively upright," she says to Duncan. The druid and the tiefling have walked up to her, while the dwarf is busy emptying his mug. A band of merry adventurers, off to see the world. And most likely getting themselves killed. "We'll leave in two hours," she says to them and gets up. "And now I'm going to take a bath." Oh, the idea of seeing her body out of constraints of that armour, stretching in warm water, all ready for… Way, way too much time in the wilderness.

"Hey, Selenya, you're leaving again?" one of the beggar kids walks up to the woman.

"Yes. Again. Did you need something, Wolf?" the woman asks, smiling at the kid.

"Nah. Just wondered whether we'll get to be of any help to you, since you run around the countryside all the time. We owe you, you know." That settles it, she must be of some relation to Duncan. Enslaving people seems to run in the family. I should keep my eye on her, just in case Duncan has told her things and she needs to be silenced along with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: I'm really not good with accents, so Khelgar doesn't sound much like the stereotypical Scottish dwarf. Why do so many fantasy dwarves have Scottish accent? Is there some official memo on the Scottish origin of dwarves that most fantasy creators have received? Anyway, I'm leavin' some g's out here and there. Yer welcome to review the text, lasses and lads, aye:-)

Chapter 3: Conversations

_Selenya_

Grobnar is humming a song that isn't actually too bad, melody-wise. You could even attempt to dance to it, if it weren't for the lyrics that at first sound innocent, but with little imagination they become very, very suggestive. I find myself wondering, once again, whether the gnome's innocent and simple surface hides something truly complicated and far more intelligent than seems possible. We all wear masks and play roles to hide our true selves, or something like that. I can't remember where I heard that thought, but it's true. And I have to admit, a good-natured halfwit is not such a bad role. Better than the role of "the leader" that I have been cast in and have no idea how to play. Thus far it has consisted of keeping the arguments between my companions at minimum, sorting out cooking shifts and taking everyone to where Neverwinter has ordered me to go. I'm worried what will happen when more responsibility falls on me. Running away might be the best idea at that point.

"Can't you tell him to shut up?" Khelgar slumps down to the ground next to me and stares at me imploringly. "Those damned songs keep goin' through my mind all the time! I couldn't sleep last night when all I could think about was whitethistle."

"Good thing that I wasn't the only one," I laugh, but the look on his face tells me that he's not ready for any humour concerning Grobnar's songs. "I'll try to talk to him. But you know, when a muse gets a hold of you, there's nothing to do but to follow her lead."

"Are you talkin' about the way you danced in the Flagon couple of nights after we got to Neverwinter?" Khelgar is grinning. Oh yes, Duncan welcomed some travelling bards who promised to pay by playing. Wonderful evening, especially after some of the regulars found the courage to ask me to dance. And in the end I ended up performing a dance on my own. It was what I needed after everything that had happened to me, a moment to remind myself of what made me who I am. "I'm not sure all the men starin' at you were thinkin' about muses," Khelager continues. "At least not the decent ones. You need to be careful, lass."

"Really?" I try to stifle a grin. Isn't this wonderful? First Georg warns me about men, telling me that the way I _carry _myself can draw the wrong kind of attention. He probably remembered the trouble I had that one Harvest Fair when I was twenty and drew the wrong kind of attention from Wyl Mossfeld. I guess Georg didn't remember that the trouble ended with Wyl limping away and me returning to enjoy the Fair. I haven't yet encountered the kind of trouble Georg talked about, but now I had another guardian of my chastity around.

I never would've thought it would be Khelgar. Elanee would've been the more predictable candidate, although some of Georg's stories, which he didn't intend for the ears of girls, implied that the sexual appetites of elven women are quite intriguing and they are not known for their modesty. I didn't believe most of the stuff I heard when sneaking around, eavesdropping and enjoying not getting caught, although all the men listening to the stories seemed to find them very exiting. Those experiences gave me some perspective in the workings of the male mind.

"I mean, yer good with that rapier of yours, and you can take care of yerself, but…" Khelgar stops to think, looking almost embarrassed. "But yer still just a lass and don't know much about the world."

"Thank you, Khelgar," I say, trying not to smile too much, although I want to burst out in laughter. "It's good to know that I have you looking after me."

"Not just me anymore, mind you," Khelgar says and nudges his heads towards the fire, where Casavir sits cleaning up after the supper. I glance over at the paladin and then at Khelgar, who has a wide grin on his face. "He seems very polite around you," he says. "You know, paying you very much _attention_."

"He's a paladin, I think they're supposed to be polite," I reply, feeling more and more amused. Protecting my honour is one thing, but this… I don't want to go there.

"Of course, lass, whatever you say," Khelgar says and gets up. "The gnome has stopped his singing for now, so maybe you can go and have a talk with the paladin instead, aye?" He laughs at my expression, which must be a mixture of amusement and shock, and walks away. I turn to look at Grobnar, who has stopped humming and is tinkering with something I hope won't go kablooie at some point. Then my eyes are drawn to Casavir, who notices my stare and looks at me curiously. I flash him a quick smile and then turn away, hoping that Khelgar doesn't go to him and hint that I might want to have a talk with him. Or he might want to have a talk with me. Either way around, I'm having some difficulties talking with Casavir.

I'm glad he's with us, I have nothing against him. Neeshka claims he makes her skin itch, but she's still relatively well-mannered around him. He's a fine warrior and a good companion, I can tell that even though I haven't known him for long. And he can cook, which is always nice when you must travel through the countryside and improvise meals from whatever you have in your bag and what you can catch or pick nearby. Neeshka refuses to cook, based on some principle she hasn't yet explained, but which I suspect to be "can't do it and don't want to learn". Qara simply refuses, no explanation offered. Elanee, well, she prefers fruits and vegetables to meat, which doesn't suit well with the others. Or me, for that matter. Khelgar is actually a fairly good cook. And as for Grobnar… Oh gods, I'm not letting him anywhere near any pots or pans after tasting that 'Turnip Surprise", which he claimed to be a famous gnomish recipe that he got from some Jansen fellow. You shouldn't be allowed to do that to an innocent vegetable. I can cook, since Retta Starling insisted that I should learn to take care of myself and not rely on Daeghun to be home to cook for me. Sometimes I wondered whether she was also training me to be a good wife to some lucky lad of West Harbor. Never mind about the reasons, thanks to Retta I'm well versed in the arts of kitchen.

The only problem I have with Casavir is that he seems so distant. According to the stories Amie always read, and made me read, paladins are supposed to be noble and heroic, striving towards noble goals, forgetting their personal desires. I hated that idea, sacrificing oneself to a cause so completely that nothing was left but the cause. Losing all the feelings that I believe matter the most. Duty to one's own heart, that's the only duty I'm interested in. And I didn't want to believe that all paladins are alike, since that would be stupid. They are all individuals, after all. Every person is different and labelling all paladins 'noble and heroic' would be like labelling all rogues 'untrustworthy and skinny' or something like that.

Casavir seems like an ordinary paladin at first sight, but there's something hidden beneath that he won't share. An ordinary paladin, at least the ordinary paladin of all the stories, wouldn't go around the mountains killing orcs and not working with the forces of Neverwinter. An ordinary paladin wouldn't look so troubled when he talks about duties. Even though Casavir is very good at hiding his emotions, I've seen glimpses of pain and confusion every now and then. But he won't really talk to me. He came to the mountains because he felt it was the right thing to do and because he didn't think Neverwinter could, or would, do anything. Whenever I try to take the conversation further, he attempts to change the subject, usually succeeding, since I don't know him well enough yet to dare to keep questioning him. I'm just afraid that I will never get to know him well enough if he keeps to himself.

Why do I keep thinking about Casavir? Qara has told me nothing about herself, and I have to admit, although I'm ashamed of myself, that I'm not that interested in getting to know her better. I should give every person a chance, but there is just something about her that gets on my nerves. But maybe I'll try again. Because she seems lost too, hiding every doubt and fear behind her attitude. Elanee is also elusive, answering some of my questions and completely ignoring others. Neeshka has talked to me quite a lot, about her past deeds at the top of criminal activities in Neverwinter, and it has been fun, although some of her stories have made me think about Georg. Khelgar has opened up after we encountered his clansmen, or should it be clansdwarves, and also seems to be trying to take up the role of a protective parent. Grobnar talks about everything, but I'm never certain how much of his words I should believe, if they're all a part of his role.

I think a leader should know all about those who travel with her. A proper leader, that is. I don't know much about anyone, and I waste my time worrying about a paladin because worrying about being a leader is much more complicated. Or maybe because he interests me. It's strange how you are sometimes drawn to a person without really knowing why. I don't mean anything romantic or sexual, but this strange kind of connection that you just feel with some people and not with others.

"My lady?" I glance up, surprised to see Casavir standing beside me. He moves pretty quietly without his heavy armour, but I still should have heard him approaching. Good thing it was him and not a blood-thirsty ogre. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's alright, I was just, well, not thinking about anything important." I give him a smile that is meant to be bright and friendly. Am I imagining it or does a little smile flash across his face as well? "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I was just…" He stops and seems to weight the next words carefully before continuing, "I wanted to ask you about what you are doing. Helping people, working for Neverwinter's good. What made you take this path?"

"Long story," I sigh. I have told him only why I've travelled to Old Owl Well, but not how I got to Neverwinter in the first place. I really don't have the right to complain about him not sharing his past. "Would you like to sit down? Just so I don't need to crane my neck when looking at you," I add. He's tall, especially compared to me, and now that I'm sitting down, the height difference feels even greater. He smiles, this time I'm sure of it, and sits down next to me. I think for a moment and then start telling him a somewhat clear version of the strange events that started at the Harvest Fair. When I finally stop, Casavir looks at me silently for a while.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me," he says and looks at me, his brilliant blue eyes suddenly warm, but also sad. "You have such strength within you. Where do you find it?"

"I'm not so certain about strength," I say, feeling a little embarrassed. I'm not a hero and I don't want him to see me as such. "But I suppose dancing has something to do with the little strength I have."

"Dancing?" his brow wrinkles a bit, but he doesn't sound like he will denounce dancing as immoral activity.

"I've been dancing ever since I was five. It helps me to find my balance in the world. And to keep up my spirit when the world seems dark." Doesn't that sound pathetic?

"You're a follower of Lliira?" he asks and I look at him with probably a very surprised look on my face. "I've… known a person who followed The Lady of Joy and you remind of her. The same joy and hunger for life." I certainly wasn't expecting such a revelation, and Casavir looks uncomfortable as soon as the words have escaped his lips.

"I'm not sure whether I can call myself a follower. But I believe in things she stands for." Should I have asked about the person he mentioned? No, I'm a coward. And the important thing is to keep him talking, not to let him fall back into his usual silence. "What about you and your god? Tyr? I've come to understand his very popular among paladins."

"Yes." He looks away, and I realize I'm holding my breath. Please, talk to me! I wonder what his reaction would be if I shouted that out loud. "He is sometimes a very demanding god," he finally says, still looking away.

"Why do you say that?" I ask and he turns to look at me. For a moment he looks like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head.

"I don't wish to burden you with my minor problems," he says and gets up. "And I think that it's best that you get some sleep. Long walk tomorrow back to Neverwinter. Good night."

I look at him walking away and want to scream. But at least he talked to me a bit, wanted to learn something about me. Perhaps later he will be ready to tell me more about himself. Later, when there aren't so many things happening all at once. There must be a moment of peace ahead somewhere.

Edit: Fixed a typo that turned Casavir into a woman. I hope there aren't others like that...


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Thank you for your comments, I still haven't found out whether I can comment on them (I dunno how the site works, I just post stuff here). But I do read all of your comments and appreciate them.

Chapter 4: Drinks and new clothes

_Bishop_

She's back again, and the Flagon is starting to be full of her companions. The latest additions have been a gnome that can't sing but doesn't let it stop him, and a paladin who looks at her with the expression of a dog begging for scraps. She seems to gather quite a sad group around her. Duncan had no problems telling me about her, this adopted niece who has made him so proud. It doesn't take much to impress Duncan, apparently. She's no real relation then, just a poor orphan his elven brother had decided to take care of. A poor orphan Duncan is ready to protect with his life. The last bit was added with a stern voice quite unusual to Duncan, hinting me that I should keep my distance from her. Not a problem, really. Except if I decide I need to take Duncan's life and need a good excuse for slitting his throat. Can anyone blame me for defending myself against a man who attacks me, claiming that I've dishonoured his niece? And dishonouring her might be fun.

I can't believe I'm still here. But there haven't been any job opportunities available recently, and although tracking and killing a Luskan patrol just for fun is tempting, why not enjoy the warmth of indoors and the taste of cheap beer for now. And I have to admit, I do get some amount of pleasure from watching the tiefling girl systematically pilfer coins from every customer in the Flagon. The idiots don't even realize it, probably because after a long night of drinking their money is usually gone anyway.

My glass is empty and I wave my hand at the red-haired girl who has just managed to spill half of the drinks she carried to the people in the next table. They don't complain much, probably because they're scared of her temper. She tries to ignore me, but a stern look from Sal sends her to my table.

"What do you want?" she scowls at me, holding a tray in front of her like a shield. I've learned some things about her as well, both from Duncan and the regulars. Some Academy drop-out who almost burned down the Flagon and was then forced to work for Duncan and his niece. When Duncan's niece doesn't need her in their adventuring, or whatever it is they do, she's serving the tables in the Flagon. Pathetic.

"A better attitude towards a paying customer," I say, enjoying the angry look she gives me. A spoiled girl who knows nothing of the real world. She should be grateful she's safe inside these walls, because the only reason she has survived outside must be that someone else in that group has some common sense and fighting skills. "Unless you wish me to complain to the owner."

"The useless drunk won't understand any big words," she snorts. "Then again, I don't think you'd be able to think up anything more complicated than a couple of grunts."

"Qara," a voice says and the red-haired girl swirls to look at Duncan's niece, who has walked up to us.

"What is it now?" the girl moans, but with less whine in her voice as usual.

"Duncan said you should stop annoying the customers. So take a break, we might need you tomorrow. Go and read a book." The last sentence is accompanied by an evil little smile and the red-haired girl scowls at Duncan's niece, but says nothing and marches away.

"Sorry about that, she can be difficult sometimes," Duncan's niece says to me, flashing a little smile. "Why don't you tell me what kind of drink you want, I can take your order to Sal."

"Why don't you go away like a good little nuisance," I reply, glancing at Duncan who isn't looking our way. I could slit his niece's throat and he wouldn't notice. She looks at me and the look in her green eyes is amused.

"Whatever you say," she chuckles. "I was trying to be nice, but apparently that's not a popular trait these days. Enjoy your evening!" She's mocking me. Before I manage to say anything, she sweeps away, her hips swinging, and I notice the paladin watching her very intently. Seems like she would have at least two people defending her honour. That is, if she has any honour left. But she seems like the _respectable_ sort, despite the swinging hips and all.

_

* * *

Selenya _

I'm trying not to laugh when I sit down by the bar and glance back at the man I just saved from Qara's bad temper. I shouldn't have done that, since that kind of attitude deserves Qara at her worst. Although he looks like a person who might hurt Qara if she went too far, as she usually does. I haven't managed to get anywhere with her, getting only nasty remarks whenever I try to talk to her seriously. I'm scared that some day her lack of self-control will prove dangerous, but I'm hoping she will realize herself at some point.

"Why aren't you going to Blacklake tonight, since you have the permission?" Duncan asks me and I turn to look at him. I still can't believe I finally got the permission, I was certain I would've had to jump through a lot more hoops before the bureaucracy of the Watch had run its course.

"I thought the sage we need to meet might be more welcoming tomorrow morning rather than late at night. Although he has been described as rather eccentric," I say. "But we can talk later, I still need to go and collect my clothes from the seamstress. I don't want to spend any more time in armour. I can't move in this thing."

"And how are ordinary clothes going to protect you from blades?" Duncan asks, his voice so worried that I want to hug him.

"That's where Sand comes in," I say and chuckle at Duncan's surprised expression. "He will put some kind of enchantment on my coat, so that it will be as good as armour. But not as restrictive."

"I can't believe he agreed to do that," Duncan says, shaking his head.

"Well, I'm very good at friendly persuasion and I have enough money. Never underestimate the combination of those two things. But I need to go now, so that Sand will have time to cast the enchantment. The way he talked about it, and the amount of money he's asking for it, must mean it's a very complicated and time-consuming thing."

"Be careful out there, you haven't made any friends among the thieves that still remain here," Duncan says. "You shouldn't go alone." Wonderful, no one trusts me to take care of myself.

"Uncle, the seamstress doesn't live far away and Sand's shop is only a couple of steps away," I say, but I have a feeling I'm going to lose the argument. Duncan has turned out to be very protective, which is rather nice, since Daeghun's main principle was that I need to take care of myself, not rely on others. I guess he was worried about me as well, but didn't show it. However, at a moment like this, protective uncle is not the best thing to have.

"You should take someone with you," he says. I glare at him. If he suggests that I should take Casavir, I'm going to kick him, no matter how childish that would be.

"Neeshka!" I shout over the noise in the inn. "Do you want to go shopping with me?"

"Shopping?" she stops talking to Ergol, one of the regulars. I think she hasn't emptied his pockets yet. I've never been very good at pick-pocketing, but my skills have improved a bit since I've had to return the money and all kinds of small objects Neeshka has taken, without people realizing they've ever been gone.

"Yes, it's the thing when you go to a store, take something and give money for it," I say and she grins.

"That's the boring way, but sure, I've got nothing better to do," she shrugs and starts walking towards us.

"Now I have company," I turn to Duncan. "Happy? And don't even think about saying that I should have a man with me."

"Not going to," he smiles. "Although I think the paladin…"

"No."

"Okay then," Duncan says grinning. I can't help it; I turn to look at Casavir, who is sitting with Elanee, talking. He sees me looking at her and looks at me expectantly. I smile at him and he appears confused for a moment, but then, miracle of miracles, a little smile appears on his lips. Neeshka snickers and I turn my eyes from Casavir, trying to suppress the stupid grin that must have appeared on my face.

"So, where're we going?" Neeshka asks when we walk out. "Anything interesting in sight?"

"Sorry, we're obeying the law tonight," I reply and she scowls.

"My skills are wasted when travelling with you," she moans, but then laughs. "But I have to admit, you're a lot more interesting, and nicer, than most of the people I've teamed up with in the past."

"That's nice to hear," I reply. "Let's go, we need to get to Sand's before he closes. He said I shouldn't be late."

The seamstress has done wonderful job and I pay her so much extra that Neeshka looks like she's going to faint. Then we head to Sand's shop. The elf gives me a polite nod and then looks at the grey coat I lay on the table in front of him.

"What kind of enchantments can you put on it?" I ask and he smiles dryly.

"All the enchantments your money can buy, dear girl," he says. "What kind of dangers are you planning to face while wearing this thing?"

"I've found that it's best to prepare for everything, but since I'm not certain I'll have enough money for everything, start with basic protection from blades and work your way up from there."

"Let me see what I can do," he says and lifts up the coat. He examines it for a while and then looks at me again. "Oh, you're still here? This will take same time, why don't you go and enjoy all the wonderful sights that the docks can offer while I work on your coat?" I have a feeling that I'm send away like a child, but I nod and head out.

"Oh, and your friend should empty her pockets and leave the things she took outside the door," Sand calls after us. "If she tries to take them out, she… Well, will regret it."

"Oh, alright," Neeshka sighs as I give her a long look. She takes out a couple of rings and a potion bottle, leaves them on a shelf and flashes a bright smile to Sand. "Sorry, a force of habit."

"Naturally," the wizard says and waves his hand. "Off you go now, girls." I grin at the tone of his voice and usher Neeshka out in front of me, half expecting a flash of magic to tear some stolen item from her. No flashes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Difficulties wherever you go

_Selenya_

The stars are shining brightly. This is the first night that there aren't any clouds in the sky and I enjoy staying in watch and looking at the stars and at the crescent moon. It reminds me of West Harbor and the nights that Daeghun attempted to teach me to recognize the stars and find my way through the forest with their help. Of course I managed to get completely lost, since how the hell is anyone expected to make any sense of some blinking dots up in the sky? Sure, they are beautiful, but for me they are not reliable guides through the night. Daeghun always tried, I just wasn't a very good student when nature was the subject.

Everyone else is sleeping, tired from the events of the last couple of days. Hurrying through the countryside for the most of us, having her house burnt down for Shandra. No one objected when I suggested that we don't travel through the night, but rest and continue our journey to Neverwinter in the morning. I guess I'm getting the hang of being a leader. Shandra's curled up near the campfire, my old cloak wrapped around her. She didn't have time to take anything with her from the burning house. And my beautiful, new clothes don't look all that new anymore. Blood and ash, and it's the first time I'm wearing the clothes. Somehow that isn't fair, but I guess I had it coming.

When I woke up in the morning we were going to head to Blacklake, I was feeling quite optimistic. After all, the seemingly endless tasks were over and I was on my way of getting some answers. And one very, very girly reason was that I got to dress in my new clothes that were as far from leather armour as possible. The clothes looked too beautiful to be worn in caves full of orcs or forests full of wolves, but I didn't care. Two pairs of trousers, grey and black, since all the bright colours that were available would have made me feel like a jester. The five shirts were more colourful; after all, I had wanted to stay true to my goddess at least in some ways. The coat, however, was my favourite. It was made from grey wool and it allowed me to move easily, and in addition to flowing very nicely as I moved, it also protected me from the cruelties of the world, thanks to all the enchantments Sand had placed on it. I dressed into grey trousers, red shirt and then put on the coat, admiring myself from the mirror. My old black boots were still in perfect condition, so I hadn't bought new ones, although I had almost been tempted when I saw a pair of boots that were laced up to the knee. They wouldn't have been any use in a forest, but they would have made my legs look perfect. I promised myself once again that I would return to buy them one day, then I put on my feathered hat and felt ready to face the world.

Although vanity is not a nice attribute, I have to admit I quite enjoyed the looks I got when I stepped into the common room of the Flagon. Even the whistle from one of the regulars made me smile. And the admiring look in Casavir's eyes made me feel like a woman for once. Duncan grinned at me and told me that he was surprised that any child brought up by Daeghun had a good taste in clothes. Qara muttered something about Duncan's style being scruffy and stained, which developed into a nice little argument until I dragged Qara along with us. Casavir opened the door of the Flagon to me and I rewarded him with a bright smile that almost made him blush. Yes, I was feeling horribly good about myself, so of course the world decided to take me down a peg or two.

First of all, talking to Aldanon was quite an experience. I have to admit, I rather liked listening to him drone on and on about things that were of no real importance to us. In the end, we were sent off with a name, Ammon Jerro, and the instructions to go to the Archives. Luckily the watchman who had escorted us to Aldanon's house was easily persuaded to take us to the Archives, even though we had only received permission to go to see the sage. But as soon as we stepped in there, we heard the cries and sounds of battle. Bladelings and githyanki, and naturally the most difficult way of getting the information we needed. Hidden books and questions after questions. I wonder why all important things are always hidden behind riddles and multiple locks, instead of being filed neatly in alphabetical order somewhere?

The githyanki were after the same information we were, and the only thing we found out was that Ammon Jerro had one surviving relative. Shandra, the woman who's barn the lizardfolk burnt down in Highcliff. "The girl with the flammable barn," Neeshka had said, and I had laughed at the description, although the information meant that we were in a hurry. Neeshka headed to the Flagon to tell what had happened while Casavir, Khelgar, Qara and I travelled to Shandra's farm as quickly as possible.

Shandra was not too happy to see us and at first completely refused to come with us. It's terrible, but I really owe it to the githyanki for showing up, chasing after Shandra and burning down her house. After that, she had nowhere to go and was forced to stop and listen to what I had to say. Casavir was of great help. I don't know what it is about him, but he managed to get Shandra to calm down and agree to come with us. The certain kind of paladin charm, perhaps, that I hadn't realized until I saw Casavir talking to Shandra in that wonderful deep voice, telling her that she could trust us and that we would protect her. That moment, even I would have been willing to believe anything he said. Slightly worrying thought.

A sound from the campfire makes me glance that way. Shandra has gotten up and is walking towards me. She looks less confused than before, maybe the rest has given her time to calm down and think about this new situation.

"Can't sleep?" I ask. Not the most original question, I admit, but I'm feeling rather tired myself.

"Everything that's happened… I guess I didn't thank you saving me once again. Or did I?" she says and yawns. "I've never felt this tired and still I can't sleep. Isn't that strange?"

"I know exactly how you feel," I say, remembering the days after the attack to West Harbor. "But trust me, it'll get easier at some point."

"How do you know?" she asks angrily. "Have you had your home burnt down by some horrible creatures? Everything I had, every last thing, was in that house! First you come along and my barn burns down, the next my house! I have nothing left!"

"Shandra, please…" I say, trying to resist the urge to slap her. She is whining about her house when I've lost friends and people I've known my entire life. But hitting her might not be the best thing to do to get her trust. She might just rush deeper into the forest and I would have to run after her. I already had to stuff my beautiful hat in my bag after I realized that branches are the true enemy of big feathers. One more reason to dislike forests.

"You don't understand what…" Shandra continues and then gasps as I slap my hand against her mouth.

"Shut up," I hiss and try to listen. Was that sound I just heard just an ordinary rustle or something else? Something else.

"Go and wake everyone, there's someone nearby," I hiss to Shandra and draw my sword. She hurries towards the fire and I concentrate. If someone was watching me and Shandra, they shouldn't be able to see me anymore, which is hopefully unnerving to them. Anyone planning a surprise attack wants to know where all the people they plan to attack are.

"She just disappeared!" A very loud whisper. Beginners who have chosen the wrong prey. I feel rather sorry for them. Near the fire, everyone has woken up, and I hear Qara casting some kind of protection spell on herself. Hopefully she doesn't throw any kind of fire spell, I wouldn't want to be responsible for a forest fire. I sneak forward, trying to avoid any rustling leaves. I still haven't completely mastered the walking quietly on leaves-thing that Daeghun also tried to teach me, but I'm getting there.

"And there's a mage!" Another panicky squeak. Apparently these aren't your everyday bandits. I decide to try my luck.

"If you drop your weapons and step to the light with your hands up, we might spare you," I call out. If they are any good, they will figure out where I'm standing and send some arrows flying my way. No arrows, but more frantic whispering and then sound that could be made by weapons falling to ground. I lean into the shadows as four young men walk past me, one of them almost tripping over his own legs.

"I'm sorry, please don't kill us," one of them, probably the leader, wails to Casavir. The paladin looks over to me, I've stepped out of the shadows, and I know he's trying to stifle a grin.

"What do you think you were doing?" I ask and they all spin around, staring at me like I'm a ghost. I give them a friendly smile.

"I mean really, that wasn't a very good ambush. You haven't done this before, have you?"

"Hey, we have…" one of them says and then stops as his friend nudges him.

"We haven't done this before," the one I've labelled as the leader says. "Ma'am." Oh, if planning to attack us isn't a reason enough for me to slap them, calling me _that_ certainly is.

"And you thought you should start with us?" I say. "Did you even have proper weapons? I mean, how old are you? Do your _parents_ know what you're doing?"

"I say we burn them a bit, to teach them a lesson," Qara says, with a smile on her lips. I'm pretty sure she's joking. But her words have the right effect on the boys.

"We live near here," the leader says. "We've been reading about all these adventurers, but our parents won't give us any money to buy weapons or any other stuff…"

"So you thought you'd steal?" Casavir asks. If Qara's words scared the boys, Casavir is having the same effect just by standing there, all tall and muscular. I'm trying not to laugh, although the situation is so truly ridiculous.

"We thought we'd just scare you to give us money," the leader sniffs. "We didn't know you were warriors, we just saw a couple of women…" His voice trails away under my stare. "Sorry, ma'am."

"You're going to take me to your homes and I'm going to have a talk with your parents," I say, trying to sound like I have some authority. I have a sword in my hand, it seems to be enough for the boys. "No arguments from you."

"Of course ma'am, we're so sorry ma'am," the leader mutters.

"This is so pointless," Qara says. "I should've stayed at the Flagon, at least Duncan doesn't let underage idiots in."

"And I was looking for a fight," Khelgar sighs. "The druid was right, you know, you're good with kids," he says to me. "You sure you don't have some you've forgotten to tell us about?"

"Stop that," I say and glance at Casavir, who is trying not to smile and is failing at his attempt. "Have all of you rested enough? We should get these kids home and then head to Neverwinter."

"I'm ready to go," Shandra says. "And when we get to Neverwinter, you can explain to me what this all is about. Hopefully nothing will be set on fire, since that seems to happen whenever you're around."

"You'll be safe in the Flagon," I say and watch my companions gather up their belongings. The four boys are staring at me, one of them visible shaking. Oh yes, I still have my sword in hand and there's some githyanki blood on my coat. I wonder whether Sand has an enchantment that keeps clothes stain-free. And I wonder how he would roll his eyes if I asked him that. Still, some amount of elven sarcasm may just be worth having bloodless clothes.

"I don't suppose you could just let us go?" one of the boys says, not knowing when to give up. "We won't do this ever, ever again, I swear, so…" I stare at him and his words turn into muttering.

"I'm going to take you home and make damn sure you're not going to do this again," I say, quite proud of the threatening tone I manage to conjure up. As we head out, the boys silently pick up the weapons they had with them. Two very old swords, a rusted axe and a sickle. I want to laugh out loud, but the boys look so beaten already that I decide to take pity on them. I guess their parents will make them feel sorry enough soon, that's what parents are for. The times when I got into trouble, Daeghun always had the "I'm very disappointed because I thought you knew better"-talk with me and I swore I would never again do anything stupid. Of course I did, but I never did the same stupid thing twice. I guess that's something to be proud of.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: I should've been writing poetry for a creative writing class, but instead I decided to finally finish chapter 6 (a good choice, since I suck at writing poetry). Enjoy! And please, review if you can think of something nasty or nice to say.

Chapter 6: The farm girl

_Selenya_

When we step into the Flagon, Duncan hurries to meet us with a relieved look on his face.

"There you are, I was worried that something had happened, when…" his eyes turn to Shandra and the tone of his voice changes instantly. "Well, I see you managed to find the lass you went to find. You're very welcome to the Flagon."

"Shandra, this is Duncan. Duncan, this is Shandra Jerro. Her house was burnt down," I add, although I'm not sure why. Who cares, I'm tired and I want to get to bed. "We promised she would be safe here."

"And safe she shall be," Duncan beams at Shandra. I'm not really in the state of mind to watch my uncle flirt with someone I've just rescued, but there's little I can do. Duncan asks Grobnar to play something and when the discussion once again turns into bickering, Shandra looks at me, smiling a little.

"The innkeeper sure seems to run hot and clod," she says.

"Duncan's my uncle, you can trust him," I say, almost believing my own words.

"Did you say that her house burnt down?" Neeshka asks, sidling closer. She turns to Shandra. "First your barn and then… I mean, how unlucky can you be?"

"Neeshka," I say, but Shandra just shakes her head.

"I've asked myself the same question. Now, can you tell me what's going on? Why were those creatures after me and what do you want from me?" She looks directly at me, a look of determination on her face. I try to think of an easy way to explain everything, then draw a deep breath and begin.

"Well, it's because you're related to Ammon Jerro…"

* * *

Shandra has gone to bed. She must've been exhausted. I'm exhausted too, but I can't sleep. Sal has poured me a drink he claims will help me sleep, although by the smell of it I would wake up with a horrible headache. The tavern is almost empty, there are only a couple of regulars half asleep in their tables. Well, regulars and Khelgar. I guess it would take an army to move him from the table. When I turn to look at him, I notice the brown-haired man near the fireplace looking at me. I catch his eye and he looks away, like he had just been glancing around the place, but I have a feeling he had been looking at me longer. I wonder whether he's still angry over that little episode with Qara. If he is, he should learn to forget and forgive, or something like that.

"Can I sit down?" Casavir moves really quietly when not wearing his armour. Of course I heard him, but didn't pay him much attention. When he's around, I feel safe. I guess it's some strange paladin aura that radiates from him. He doesn't feel at all threatening to me. It must be the quite opposite for Neeshka, since her otherworldly blood and paladin auras aren't exactly a perfect match.

"Of course," I say and he sits down. I push my glass away and he glances at it.

"Something that should help me sleep," I say and smile. "Although I think it would be better used for disinfecting things."

"I've notices that about many of the things Sal recommends," Casavir says, smiling slightly. I lean on the counter and turn around a bit to look at him properly. I notice that the man by the fireplace is looking at me again. What is his problem? I'm not even looking all that cute at this time of the night.

"Why aren't you resting?" Casavir asks and I turn my attention to him again. "You look tired."

"I just can't sleep," I say, touched by the worry in his eyes. "But that doesn't mean you have to stay awake. I'm fine, I have Sal here giving me drinks I can't drink. But…" I try to find the right words, because for some reason it's more difficult to speak to him than to the others. Maybe it's the paladin thing again, I fear I might insult him.

"I'm really grateful for your help with Shandra," I say. "I don't know how you do it, but you have this great gift. You get people's trust so easily and seem to be able to understand them."

"I've noticed you have the same kind of gift," he says, looking at me warmly. Now he's just flattering me, but I like it.

"I have to work hard to get people to trust me. And even harder to understand them. But to you, it all seems so natural," I say. "Maybe it's the paladin charm Neeshka mentioned." I try to keep my tone joking enough, but he looks almost shocked, apparently at loss for words.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I always say the wrong things, I don't know why, but…"

"No, it's not that, it's just," he pauses to think and then shakes his head. "You didn't offend me, so you need not worry. I just don't know what this paladin charm you talk about is. I've simply always had the skill of talking to people."

"So it's not a paladin thing, it's a Casavir thing?" I ask and he laughs. I like it when he laughs. Come to think of it, I may like it too much. I try not to let that uncomfortable thought show up on my face.

"Maybe so," he says. "In that case, you most certainly have a Selenya thing. You can deny it if you want, but when you talk, people listen. And most of the time, believe what you tell them."

"See, that's part of the paladin thing," I say. "If you had wanted to flatter me, you would've said that people believe me all the time. But paladins are supposed to be honest, right?"

"We can have our dark moments as well," he says, and more uncomfortable thoughts rise to my mind as I look into his blue eyes that are laughing now. Finally. He looks at me for a moment, an intense look in his eyes, and then turns his head and gets up.

"You're right, I should rest. And you need to rest as well," he touches my shoulder lightly. The touch is almost like a soft caress, his hand just barely brushing against the red cloth of my shirt. "Promise me that you will rest."

"I promise," I say and smile at him. "I give you a shadowdancer's word of honour." He laughs again and then walks away. I realize that I'm staring at him, concentrating on parts that a real lady wouldn't even dream of thinking about, and turn back to the counter. Sal is looking at me and winks when he meets my eye. I'm surrounded by people who seem to be more interested in my personal life than I am. I sit still for a moment, listening to the almost complete silence that is periodically interrupted by Khelgar's snores. Then I get up, say goodnight to Sal and head for my room for a well-deserved rest, with some very private ideas of the kinds of dreams I would like to have.

* * *

_Bishop_

The Flagon always quiets down for the night and I get to enjoy the silence of the common room before returning to the small room that Duncan is renting me at a price that he probably thinks is fair. Sal is cleaning some classes, although probably the alcohol that will be poured into them cleans them better than his attempts with a piece of cloth. Everything is quiet. Almost too quiet. I reach for my bow and try to figure out what it is that is bothering me.

"Alarm!" a shout carries from the hallway and at the same time a group of githyanki teleports into the common room. The dwarf, who seemed to be asleep with his head on spilled beer, moves surprisingly fast and draws his axe as he charges towards the group. Sounds of battle are coming from other parts of the inn as well. I guess this has something to do with Duncan's niece. It was so peaceful before she got here, a man could enjoy his beer without any interruptions. I get up, bow in hand and arrow already in my fingers. Unwelcome target practice is still better than another boring night.

More people storm into the common room, including the paladin who was talking to Duncan's niece earlier. Apparently he's not a very good conversationalist, since he slept alone. I retreat a bit, keeping away from the heat of the battle and send my arrows flying. Duncan emerges, followed by his niece. It is slightly worrying seeing Duncan fight, mostly because it reminds me that he can fight, is really good at it, actually. For a moment I contemplate on letting one of my arrows slip and hit him. In the heat of the battle, accidents happen. However, before I manage to make up my mind, a githyanki appears in front of me and I need to resort to my dagger to bring him down. That's what happens when you don't act fast enough, you lose your opportunity.

A surge of magic flows across the room and hits one of githyanki, setting him on fire. Close to me, the red-haired girl tries to send another spell forward, but a githyanki appears in front of her, slashing with its sword. She manages to dodge the blow, but trips and falls to the floor.

"Qara!" Duncan's niece shouts, as the githyanki raises its sword over the fallen girl. I take an aim at the githyanki and glance quickly at Duncan's niece who twirls around a githyanki and slits its throat in one graceful move. She won't get to the red-haired girl in time. What the hell, let's do good once. My arrow hits the head of the githyanki and it falls to the floor. The red-haired girl crawls away with a frightened expression on her face.

The pompous paladin cuts through one of the githyankis with his sword, the dwarf's axe finds yet another target and Duncan's niece… well, that's a surprise. She disappears from sight right there in the middle of the room and then reappears behind a baffled githyanki, her rapier sinking into its back. Duncan did praise his niece, but didn't mention that she's a shadowdancer. I plunge my dagger into another githyanki that gets too close, at the same time keeping an eye on Duncan's niece. If he has told her, she might be tougher to take care of than I thought.

Then, almost as quickly as it started, the battle is over. The dwarf is swaying a little, with a cut on his forehead. The druid helps the red-haired girl up and is rewarded with some swearwords. She's not very good at hiding her fear. I kneel down next to one of the fallen githyanki. A sprig of Duskwood on its boot. Duncan is saying something about the farm girl his niece came with being kidnapped. If they want to get her back, they'll have hard time travelling through Luskan territories.

"Good luck trying to get her back," I say. I should just stay silent, but maybe Duncan deserves a clue to where his niece should head out to get herself killed. Better than to have them go through the bodies for hours and try to discover where the attackers could be found. That would be a painful thing to witness. "This one has sprig of Duskwood on its boot. They came from Luskan."

"That's your territory," Duncan says, his voice all serious. I look at him, then at his niece standing next to him. She has a rapier in her hand and splatters of blood on her clothes. I guess it was too much to ask that she would wear skimpy nightgowns, although I'm not complaining even now, since her shirt is slightly torn and almost falling from her pale shoulder.

"Yeah, my territory, but not my problem," I say, turning back to Duncan, noticing at the same time that the paladin steps up to Duncan's niece. Either he didn't like me looking at her or wants to get a closer look himself. Duncan is still staring at me, and I realize he's trying to make this my problem. Before he manages to say anything more, I continue, "I'm not going into Luskan territory for some farm girl. Certainly not with any kin of yours."

"Shandra is in danger," Duncan's niece says, looking straight at me. Her long hair is braided, but a couple of locks have escaped and she pushes them back from her face as she talks to me. "If you know the area and can track the githyanki, we need your help."

"Is your whole family deaf?" I look at Duncan, ignoring his niece's green eyes. "Like I said, not my problem."

"You _will_ help them, Bishop," he says, staring at me. "Whether you like it or not."

"What makes you think…" I stop, as his eyes seem to bore into mine. Oh no, is he serious? Now, here, for some blonde girl? "Calling it due? Are you sure?" I ask him. But I don't think I want him to reconsider. This might be easier than some of the other things that he could have me do.

"A woman's life is at stake, Bishop," he says, pronouncing my name like it's a swearword. "If this is the only way to move you to do the right thing, then so be it."

"Fine," I say. I wonder whether he really thinks that _I'm moved to do the right thing_, instead of doing what I have to because of what he knows. "This will be worth it to be rid of you – and for such a small price, too. You're a fool, Duncan."

"So be it," Duncan says again, this time quite calmly, although his look is still stern.

"All right," I turn to the niece and the paladin hovering behind her like a true guardian of decency. "Get your things. We're bound for the Luskan border. Follow my lead and try not to be clever."

"That might be difficult," Duncan's niece mutters and then smiles at me. "Thank you for doing this. Just wait a moment, I need to get my things."

"Don't keep me waiting too long, or I just might change my mind," I say. She glances at me with a smile on her lips.

"You won't," she says and looks around at her companions. "Is everyone alright?" After a chorus of fines she turns to me. "What kind of trails will we be taking? How many should come with us?"

"Well now, aren't you a bright girl to be asking that," I say, eyeing her up. I'm actually surprised that she thought of asking me. I was certain she would try to drag the entire group with her. "A small group. I would prefer people who don't go crashing around in heavy armour. Pick those who are useful tools for this kind of thing."

"Useful tools?" she says quickly, her hand reaching out to stop the paladin who was trying to take a step forward. She has him on a very short leash. Maybe he enjoys it. Who knows about the strange desires of these holy types. "Not the phrase I would use to describe any of my companions."

"That's your weakness then," I say. "Now, decide which ones you want to drag along to be targets and get your things. The trail gets cold every minute we waste."

"We'll be right back," she says and walks to the other side of the main room, with all her companions trailing after her. Duncan stares at me for a moment and then goes to help Sal drag the bodies to a pile.

"You're not serious!" the paladin's voice is surprised and angry, and he glares at me. I return the look and then glance at Duncan's niece, who tries to smile at the paladin.

"Elanee knows much about nature. And Grobnar does too, especially about all weird plants," she adds and the gnome nods with a proud look on his face. "And his spells will be useful."

"I must insist I come with you," the paladin says, in a stern voice. "There's no reason for you to leave me behind, it is my duty to help Shandra…" Duncan's niece looks at him, then steps close to him and snatches hold of his arm. The paladin winces with pain.

"You're hurt," she says, letting go. "Right now, you can forget all of your duties besides getting better. Elanee and Grobnar are unharmed, and we need to leave now. You're not fit to travel and I'm not going to take you with us to be hurt any more. I'm sorry."

"Let me come with you then, lass," the dwarf says.

"Same with you," she says, waving her hand towards the gnash on the dwarf's forehead. "Both of you need to rest and get better. And trust the fighting skills of the rest of us."

"I trust you, of course," the paladin says and glares at me. "It's him that I don't…" What the hell did I do to get on his bad side? Not that I really object being there, but usually I need to work more to get people to instantly hate me.

"We don't have time for this," Duncan's niece says. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking any risks with the two of you being hurt any more."

"I understand, my lady," the paladin says and bows his head at her. I wonder whether he would also roll around and play dead if she asked. Duncan's niece hurries away, as does the elven druid, so she must be Elanee. The gnome bard, who looked so proud of his expertise on plants, seems to have all his things with him, so he sits down, next to a dead githyanki, and starts humming something. I wonder whether it would've been a better idea to take the paladin. Who is now walking towards me, with a determined look on his face. Wonderful.

"I don't need any kind of blessing, so just walk away," I say before he has the chance to say anything.

"You are the last person I would've asked for help, but now that she has decided to trust you, you'd better live up to her trust." Is he serious? I try not to laugh, but it's very difficult when a paladin gets to your face, trying to intimidate by being taller, holier and apparently very, very stupid.

"Oh, I have nothing but the highest respect for anyone who looks like your noble leader," I say, and the words have the effect I want, he looks like he's ready to hit me. "I'm going to be very trustworthy, so that she can thank me _properly_ after we find the stupid farm girl."

"You do anything to her and I'll…"

"Ask for her permission before you even think about retaliating," I say and stare at him. "Now, if you want to attack me, do it. With some broken bones, it'll be quite difficult for me to travel through Luskan territory. Not to mention keeping your fair leader alive long enough for her to find the githyanki and the farm girl."

"You try anything…"

"I've already heard this," I say, walking away. "Don't worry, she'll be fine. I'll keep a very close eye on her." He says nothing, but I can feel the anger streaming from him. Amazing what a woman can do to a man. Reduce him into a complete idiot, although with the paladin, that wasn't probably a very difficult task. I walk past a couple of corpses and lean on the wall near the door. It doesn't take long for the druid and Duncan's niece to emerge, both fully clothed and equipped, and after the gnome has been dragged from composing a song, we head out. I don't need to look behind me to know that the paladin is staring after us. He can stare all he wants, he's the one who has just been told to stay put like a good boy.

* * *

Edited the text a bit... 


	7. Chapter 7

Note: Wow, quite a long break, although not my longest one. But here we go again! Parts of this I wrote right after chapter 6, the rest was finished in one single evening while listening to Dark Passion Play by Nightwish, mostly the oh-so-cheery songs Bye Bye Beautiful and Amaranth. coughblatantly-advertising-one-of-your-favourite-bands-is-so-not-rightcough

Chapter 7: Into Luskan territory

_Selenya_

"We shouldn't be stopping," Bishop says, eyeing the surroundings. Still, his words are directed at me. It's easy to tell, since he hasn't really said anything to Elanee and Grobnar. He has barely acknowledged that they're with us.

"We should be stopping," I say and he glares at me. "We've been travelling the whole day and if we don't stop, we will at some point fall down."

"You mean _you_ will fall down," he sneers. "No stamina."

"None whatsoever," I say, smiling at him. "I mean, you rangers are well known for your stamina in all things, but the rest of us are mere mortals and need some rest." He gives me a look that isn't bad enough to be pure murder, but is not far from it. I keep smiling, it's the approach that I've now decided to take with him. He hasn't spoken much during the day, but the few words that we have exchanged haven't been pleasant ones. However, I don't want to waste energy arguing with him.

"Fine then," he says and looks around. "This is as good a place as any to stop so that the githyanki can get farther away."

"Are we stopping?" Elanee asks, stepping in at the perfect moment as my hands itch to slap Bishop.

"Yes, we are," I say, still looking at Bishop's face. He's staring right back at me and his eyes are impossible to read. Then he turns away.

"Whatever our _noble leader _commands," he sneers. "Tell me when you're ready to continue this doomed mission."

"I'll do that," I say, in a voice that sounds almost maniacally cheerful, and I can see his shoulders tense as he walks away. Elanee's face is hard to read, but she seems to be stifling a smile. Grobnar has dropped his bag to the ground and is rummaging through it. When he notices me looking, he waves with a hand that's holding a bottle full of green liquid.

"Just decided to try to make a couple of healing potions in case we are horribly wounded when fighting against the githyanki!" he says, in a voice that is genuinely more cheerful than my attempt at annoying Bishop. I can't help thinking that wounded or not, Khelgar and Casavir might have been better companions. At least if they offered me a healing potion, I wouldn't fear drinking it.

"You do that," I manage to say in a normal voice. "I'm going to the…" I say to Elanee and point to the forest. "To the forest," I add and decide that talking about my bodily functions while Grobnar is in hearing distance is not on my list of sensible things to do. She nods and I leave my bag on the ground and head to the forest.

_

* * *

__Bishop_

Duncan's niece decided that we should stop in the middle of the pursuit that her uncle forced me to join. He should have mentioned that stupidity runs in the family, but obviously he thought that it would be better if I found it out myself. I can't believe the girl decided to take the elf and the gnome with her. Is she planning on using them as arrow baits while she creeps through the shadows? If only that was the case, I could respect her more, but she probably truly believes in their abilities and thinks that they will be there to defend her and keep her safe. They'd better be, because I'm not sure as hell won't be.

Then again, it's better that she brought those two than the paladin. He probably would have insisted on carrying her over the small brook that even the gnome cleared without any effort and demanded that we stop every ten minutes so that his lady wouldn't get too tired. And if she had taken the sorceress with us, I would have skewered the whiny little girl after half an hour walk. Not that she would have made it that far.

Duncan's niece heads to the forest and I do the same, although to the opposite direction. I have no interest in spying whatever she is doing. I stop and wait until Karnwyr appears and walks to me. The wolf has a knack of finding me soon after I leave the city. I continue walking and he walks next to me, sniffing the air and listening to the sounds of the forest. The githyanki tracks are easy to find, but before I start to follow them any further, Karnwyr turns to other direction. I follow him, to the way Duncan's niece headed, although I cannot see any other tracks there. Well, if the wolf wants to meet her, I have no objection. Duncan can't blame me for her niece being stupid enough to attack a wolf and dying in the process. I'm interested in seeing her reaction.

_

* * *

__Selenya_

I start walking back towards our little camp, brushing dry leaves from my clothes. I dodge a low-hanging branch, look up and there is a wolf standing right in my path. I freeze, my heart suddenly pounding faster. Maybe I'll have time to reach for my rapier before the wolf pounces, but… But it doesn't look like it's ready to attack. It's not even growling. It actually looks a little curious, although I'm not certain why that thought comes to my mind. After all, I'm not very good at reading wolves. I move my hand away from my sword and take a step towards the wolf. It doesn't move.

"Who are you, then?" I say and reach my hand towards the wolf. It takes a few steps back and then looks to its left. I follow its gaze to Bishop, who is leaning on a tree with an amused look on his face.

"A friend of yours?" I ask, flashing him a smile. The wolf walks to him and turns to look at me.

"I was certain you would run away screaming or try to attack him," Bishop says.

"Oh, don't you have any more faith in me?" I ask and the sneer on his face almost resembles a smile. "So, it seems to be true that rangers have animal companions. Although I hadn't thought that your companion would be a wolf."

"Really?" he says and then turns away. "Get back to your _friends_. I'll do some scouting ahead."

"You don't want to know which animal would suit you?" I call out after him when he walks away, the wolf at his heels. He doesn't turn back or even slow down his pace. However, the wolf glances at me, giving me the smartest look I've ever seen in the eyes of an animal. At least somebody seems to like me.

I walk to our little camp, where Elanee is cooking something over a small fire and Grobnar is fumbling through his bag. I sit down next to Elanee, who smiles at me.

"Good thing you decided not to listen to the ranger," she says. "He may know the wilds, but he knows little about people."

"So it seems," I reply and look at her. "What do you make of him? Do you think we can trust him?"

"I'm not sure," she says and then looks at me sharply. "Why are you asking me this? You haven't really turned to me before."

"The only other person here is Grobnar," I say and Elanee smiles as she follows my gaze to the gnome, who is pouring blue and clear liquid from two bottles to a third bottle, in which they are turning red. I have to resist the urge to run for cover.

"Seriously," I say to Elanee, "I know we haven't spoken much, but… You seem to keep an eye on people all the time."

"I… Maybe I do. I haven't thought of it like that," she says and looks away. "I think we can trust him as long as there are enough of us to defeat him," she finally says. "But he seems like a man who only takes care of himself."

"I know," I say and lay on my back, staring at the sky. "I'm going to close my eyes for a moment, wake me if I start to snore or when Bishop comes back. He said he would do some scouting."

"Alright," Elanee says and I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the forest, which form quite an interesting symphony when combined with Grobnar's humming.

_

* * *

__Bishop_

The tracks are easy to follow. It almost feels as if the githyanki want us to follow them. Us? Hells, there is no us. Just me and the pathetic group that I'm forced to work help. Help. Another word that I hate. People can talk about how 'help' is something nice; you help other people from the goodness of your heart. Help is not like that. If someone helps you, they will ask for something in return. They will save you once and then they will ask again and again and again. Being helped can be the worst thing that happens to a man.

Karnwyr has picked up a scent and seems eager to follow it. I order him to wait and head back to the camp, if that's what it could be called. I'm sure Duncan's niece has had the rest she needs. It's easy to find them, since the gnome keeps humming. He is stirring a purple liquid and gives me a smile when I walk past him. The elf is sitting with her eyes closed, probably getting in touch with whatever voices are speaking in her head. Duncan's niece is lying on her back with her eyes closed, breathing steadily. I take a step closer and the druid opens her eyes and glares at me.

"Let her sleep a while longer," she says and stands up. "She fought hard last night."

"We all did," I say and the druid glares at me again. "But let's allow the precious little girl rest if…"

"The precious little girl finds it hard to rest when the big bad ranger attempts to be sarcastic." Duncan's niece opens her eyes and gets up quite gracefully, checking her hair for any dry leaves. It's in a tight bun and I'm quite annoyed to realize I'm wondering what it would look like flowing free.

"Let's go," she says and glances at the gnome who is packing his things. "If he offers you a healing potion, drink at your own risk," she adds to me and flashes a smile. "Now, which way?"

I turn around and head to the place where I left Karnwyr. They follow, the gnome humming again and the druid ordering her to shut up. When we get to Karnwyr, he starts walking beside me, although every once in a while he stays behind to walk next to Duncan's niece before hurrying back to my side. It's really frustrating and finally I have to order the wolf to stay by my side. I will not give her the opportunity to try to tame him and turn him into a household pet.


End file.
